I’ve always been a worrywart. I know it’s a sin, and I’m making a conscious effort to fight the impulse.
I, however, am a mother. When I was pregnant with my first child, I had a moment of panic. I was watching a lot of true crime documentaries, plus the news, and I was suddenly besieged with guilt that I wanted to bring an innocent life into this scary, dangerous world. The moment clearly passed since I proceeded to have two more children.
Still, I experience a lot of anxiety, considering the many evils on this planet coexisting with my children. I think this is reasonably true for most mothers. What’s there to do but pray, protect them as much as we can, equip them to defend themselves, and train them to exercise good sense?
It’s a tough world out there and there’s always a part of us that’s tuned into the state of our children, if they’re happy, safe, good, etc. It niggles so that even late at night when we know they’re sound asleep, our brains are still on overdrive, overthinking, planning how to make things better for them in all the ways that count and don’t really count.
But I’m the mother of autistic boys. In my case, it means that my nerves are fried. I’m a jittery wreck by default. If I even dare take my eyes off them, I can pretty much guarantee that they’ll do something disgusting, wasteful, downright dangerous or all three.
Have I mentioned that my youngest is gifted? It seems he uses his smarts almost exclusively for driving me up the wall? He’s a problem solver, and his problems mainly concern the restrictions we’ve imposed. He has made it his mission to overcome every safeguard we’ve placed. He’s also extremely curious and has no compulsions about exploring and experimenting without any regard for danger or wastage.
As nervous as I already am, I still have to deal with the awful eventualities that might transpire. What if there was a war? What if the cyber pandemic that the WEF is allegedly predicting/launching really happens? It’s bound to be hard for everybody, but even more difficult for families with PWD members. We have eight cats to boot.
It’s hard being so anxious all the time. I get bored and tired of my concerns and worries. Thankfully, there’s refuge in prayer. My burden is lifted and I find rest. Nonetheless, I’m still developing the habit of giving everything to God in prayer. I don’t know why I forget. I don’t have to be this exhausted.
Writing about this was actually draining.
This Small Life 